


Easy to Please

by DailyDaves



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: BDSM, Collars, Fluff, M/M, therapeutic collaring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4286931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DailyDaves/pseuds/DailyDaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin, having a rough day after dealing with immigration agents and having everything that could go wrong actually <i>going</i> wrong, is called up to Burnie's office and his worries are laid to rest through giving complete control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy to Please

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is sorta like my 'HEY GUYS IM BACK' fic. I'm back to fic writing full time now. That means all the fics that I have as incomplete will be completed. I'll also be posting a lot more one-shots and requests/prompts. Feel free to leave feedback! Tumblr mirror: http://gavirn.tumblr.com/post/123416999312/easy-to-please

The buckle at the back of Gavin’s neck clicked as Burnie slid it into place, a sound that was both familiar and calming.

“Are you going to stop storming around and snapping at everyone who gets within five feet of you now?”

It was soft around his neck, an expensive leather collar with a sort of cushion on the inside of it, clearly made for long-term use. It wasn’t tight around his neck, nor was it loose. The cold metal of the ring on the front nearly sent a shiver down his spine as he laid his hand on the front of his throat, hooking two fingers into the collar as if to check if it was real. Slowly, he nodded, allowing himself to breathe. His eyes flitted shut as he exhaled, letting out that breath he’d felt like he’d been holding as the cloud of anger and frustration from before cleared, leaving him relaxed and blank-minded.

“Say it, Gav.”

Gavin obliged, immediately, thoughtlessly. Perhaps _obeyed_ was a better word.

“Yeah. I’m calm. Promise.”

And he _was_. He was collared, owned, cared for. This was his safe place. The black leather collar around his neck was enough to calm him down because it meant he no longer had to do everything to his own accord. Burnie was here, making the choices, giving the orders, and Gavin trusted Burnie with everything. The collar allowed him to step back and breathe, to put all his obligations aside and give the reigns to someone else entirely. He didn’t have to decide things. He didn’t have to worry. He didn’t have to get irritated over the slightest things. He could just follow orders and do whatever Burnie directed him to do. It was a relief, knowing that someone else was there and ready to take control when Gavin himself was clearly too incompetent to do it.

Behind him, he heard Burnie’s chair creak as he sat in it. He waited, unmoving, and he didn’t have to wait long. “Sit,” Burnie directed him, and Gavin turned to see him pointing to the ground in front of him. He went, silently, sitting at Burnie’s feet as he’d been told, leaning his head back to rest on his lap, shutting his eyes.

It’d been a bad day, to say the very least.

Gavin had thought he was done dealing with immigration laws and lawyers, but he knew now that he’d never _really_ be through with that. It would be best for him to apply to get a green card, he’d decided, with Burnie’s pushing, and that meant constantly dealing with lawyers, deadlines, and just having to go through everything all over again. It was frustrating and it left Gavin feeling continuously overwhelmed, anxious, and wondering why he couldn’t just keep renewing his visa. Today had been particularly bad, with lawyers calling him during the worst times and giving him vague answers and too many questions, treating him as if he were incompetent and lower than them. It’d just left him in an overall bad mood, breaking his usual ‘I don’t care’ attitude as he snapped at others and told them to piss off.

Someone (probably Michael) must’ve messaged Burnie, that someone (probably Michael) telling him about how badly he was behaving and to calm him down (it was most _definitely_ Michael, since that little prick was the only person who knew about this whole collar thing anyways).

He pressed the pads of his fingers against the outer leather of the collar again, sighing as he felt the pressure on his throat. Burnie’s thigh was warm against his cheek, his hands brushing through Gavin’s sandy hair, petting him in a way that reminded Gavin that he was safe here and taken care of. He knew he’d have to say something soon, something about how he’d been acting and why. Burnie would order it out of him if he didn’t and Gavin would have no choice but to spill it. He didn’t go against what Burnie said, not when he was collared like this, because he knew that Burnie did this _for him_ and it was the best thing for Gavin at the moment. In some strange, probably vaguely fucked up way, he was helping Gavin.

His breathing was conscious, controlled, and there was only one thought in his head at a time, relief from the thousands there usually were. He was alright here. He was calm. He was safe. Gavin wasn’t someone who willingly or openly talked about his own negative feelings. He just didn’t bother with it and no one else wanted to hear it. He was forced to talk about it when he was collared like this, though, and as calm as he was, he was still dreading it. Instead, he focused on the hands threading through his hair, petting him gently and in exactly the way that made Gavin lean in and push against his hand.

It was gone, then, and all too soon, as Burnie tapped on his shoulder lightly and told Gavin to do exactly what he’d been fearing, “Talk.”

That was all it took. A one word command. Burnie knew what to do and how to help Gavin, so Gavin did whatever he was told. The collar tied him to Burnie, giving him an owner, someone to control him. The simple feeling of not being in control and not having to do anything but what he was told to do was the best feeling in the world, even if he was told to talk about what he was going through.

Gavin took a deep breath, trying to gather the words and form his thoughts and the worries that seemed so far away now into words, “Immigration crap again. Those people just take me for a bloody idiot.” His voice was calm and resigned and he was rewarded almost immediately with more petting, the action soothing. “I don’t want to deal with them. They never give me straight answers or… or…” His hands had found the d-ring on the front of the collar, his fingers hooked against it and pulling at it slightly. The frustration had begun to seep back into his voice, and he felt it tearing at him again, pulling at him and reminding him that he _had_ to talk to them again later today and he couldn’t just ignore them. He’d have to go through this again and be in that bad mood again and he just didn’t want that _at all_.

Burnie saw it, too, and Gavin opened his eyes and raised his head to see Burnie reach back inside the drawer he kept the collar in and before he knew it, the familiar thin leather leash was clipped on the thick d-ring, the other end wound around Burnie’s hand as he sat back and pulled, pulling at Gavin’s collar, tightening it around his neck. He made a soft sound at the contact, at the resistance he felt, at the pulling against his neck and he submitted, letting it happen and letting Burnie pull at him. It was painful, but it didn’t _hurt_. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling. It was tight. It was control. It was dominance. It was exactly what Gavin both needed and wanted.

Burnie’s hand was on his head again, petting and then pushing him firmly, though not roughly, forcing Gavin’s head down, his fingers curled into his hair. The only sound in the locked personal office, then, was Gavin’s hard, wonderfully choked breathing. His body was loose and relaxed, rather than taut and tense. This was calming, as strange as it was. He needed this control now.  The feel of Burnie’s hands and the pull on his collar kept him calm, kept him from losing control of himself again. He pictured Burnie behind him, pulling back on the leash _just enough_ , standing over him with is other hand firm in Gavin’s hair, pushing him down and against the floor. Gavin breathed hard, panting, though not with panic or loss of air.

The pressure let up gradually and Gavin was left on the ground, kneeling with his cheek pressed against the carpet, flushed and panting, and yet, the most at ease he’d been all day. He didn’t recall how exactly the whole collaring thing had started, but the line between what was sexual and not was blurred in this situation, and Gavin just went with it, letting Burnie take the lead, always with his safeword in mind but almost never having to use it. He often found himself as he did now—unmistakably and undeniably aroused by the position of control Burnie had over him. It wasn’t _just_ sexual, of course. Being collared gave Gavin safety and a time where he didn’t _have_ to deal with things. It just happened to often lead to this.

There was a tug on his leash, earning a noise Gavin tried his hardest to hold back, his face red and his legs quivering just from the arousal of being pulled and pushed on. He waited, not moving from his spot, letting his eyes fall shut again as he realized he was half-under Burnie’s desk. His hands were braced against the floor, and he’d been pushed into a position of kneeling with his chest and face against the floor. Burnie tugged on is leash again, harder this time, and Gavin swallowed another noise, refusing to cry out, especially when the only thing separating them from everyone else were paper-thin walls and a locked door that probably everyone in the company could pick.

“Up on the desk, Gav,” Burnie told him, pulling as Gavin stood, shaking slightly from the stimulation. He took a moment to stop and breathe and decide that he wanted to do this. The answer was the same as always—he wanted this more than anything. Burnie guided him up and onto it, keeping the leash short and pulled tight so that Gavin had no choice but to move how and where Burnie wanted him to. He breathed out a string of swears, most rarely said by him, as Burnie’s free hand rested on his clothed thigh. It was simple and almost nothing, but to Gavin and in addition to the tight pulling at his collar, it sent him shaking and rocking forward.

“You’re easy to please,” Burnie commented with a lighthearted smile.

“Nah,” Gavin breathed out, clutching the edges of the desk with his hands, his nails digging into the wood. He tried to regain his composure, but with the cold buckle of the collar pressing into the back of his neck, it was near impossible.

Burnie pinched his thigh lightly in _just_ the way Gavin liked, making him groan, unable to hold himself back. Burnie’s smug smile just widened, “That proves different, doesn’t it?”

Gavin really didn’t even care anymore. He was sensitive, submissive, and responsive. Everything was stimulation to him, from the way Burnie spoke to him, slowly and commanding, to the way he touched him, his fingers just lightly ghosting over Gavin’s hip bones, pushing his shirt up slightly and then across his stomach and ribs. He was gone, then, his stomach jumping every time Burnie so much as ran his fingers across his skin, completely lost to the rest of the world and his previous worries. It was bliss, this clarity and distraction, his head clear and relieved of stress. All he had to do was follow Burnie’s lead and do what he was told. It was calmingly easy.

Burnie leaned in suddenly, pulling him so he was against him, one hand coming to rest on his hip, the leash wound around his wrist and fingers, still, the other against his collar, fingers laced through the d-ring and keeping him close. His lips closed on Gavin’s neck, below his ear, a sensitive spot he’d clearly memorized. His breath was hot on his skin, his facial hair just barely tickling him. Gavin’s grip on the desk just tightened and he bit his lip, feeling Burnie’s teeth on his neck, marking him and claiming him. He rocked forward, his fingernails digging hard into the wood of the desk.

“You’re good, Gav,” Burnie murmured against him, sending a shiver down Gavin’s spine, making him tremble and hold back a moan. “You’re good. You’ll come home with me tonight and we’ll talk to the lawyers together.”

A feeling of relief coursed through him at Burnie’s words. It wasn’t a question or a suggestion. It was Burnie _telling_ Gavin what was going to happen. It was the reassurance Gavin needed, because if he couldn’t handle it, Burnie could, and he’d help Gavin through it. He looked up at Burnie, his eyes wide, lips trembling, and Burnie just smiled and said the words Gavin needed to hear, “Good boy.”

And everything was alright again.


End file.
